Passion of the Pearl: Letter P

Souce: namu project

The Letter P

Could it be perfume, pink, pandering, pancakes ...?

Strong to my traditional form, the letter P is for:
Pearl

Pearl harbored serious obsession here.

This Pearl is Great-Aunt Pearl, whom I knew only by reputation and photos. Grandmother Amy was the oldest of three sisters with the middle sister Grace and youngest sister Pearl. 

In 1911, Pearl was in high school, with all the expectations of any young woman in the early 1900s, which were basically marriage, children, and home.


But, OH, first came the tender innocent love, romance with its soft touches, shy kisses, sweet words...

In her English textbook, Pearl practiced writing her name, over and over.  Other pages were covered with doodles and sketches, dreamy sketches of young men.  
Even her perception of Hell expressed a passionate moment in her life.

This textbook must have been all over the classroom, passed from girl to girl.  Squelched giggles and hurried scribbles asked and answered questions.  Comments and questions (what did he say about me?...Certainly I know that YOU know!..Girls are made to flirt with men---But men with girls??  Oh! No!...) ***

 Pearl's dreams of romance were recorded for a great-niece to find:

The drawings and notes were found in History of English Literature by Reuben Post Halleck, M.A  (Yale), published by the American Book Company in 1900.

Pearl married shortly after graduation, at the age of eighteen or so.  The man she married was named Fred, who was rather plain and balding early, liked to fish, and was not greatly ambitious.  He was the very antithesis of the ideal heroic man of her dreams. 

On March 6, 1913, in a double wedding, Pearl married Fred Funk AND
her sister Grace married John Friend.

Whenever I asked my grandmother about her sister Pearl, she would sigh and say, "Oh, Pearl..."

I was an over-achiever.  I never did any of this.  Seriously.


Imagine what Pearl and her friends could have done with Smart Phones.

***Copied from the text book, written in pencil.

Now, what did YOU do during a high school class?  Be honest, now!

U is for...Underneath the House

The farmhouse where we lived

The year I turned 14 years old was memorable on so many levels.  Why, you ask?

First, know that memories are locked into our brains by the sensory experiences involved.  Second, know that these sensory images do not have to be good to be effective.

The north porch, where the air was fresh and cool

At fourteen, I was apparently blossoming into an attractive teenager.  I didn’t know it; my brothers kept me humble by pointing out my faults.  My father helped them.  My mother kept silent.

June 1966--Note that I am hiding on the far right, with my evil brothers around me

It wasn’t until we had attended a sister church’s revival in a nearby town that I met the teenagers from other churches.  Teenage boys…good looking boys.  Many asked to sit by me; many followed me to the car and wanted to know where I lived.  Heck, I didn’t know what they were thinking.  

This is what a revival can look like if we were lucky.

Weeks later on a Saturday afternoon, a car showed up at our farm and two of the cutest boys from the revival got out.  I sat and talked with them for a few hours.

They kept coming back! 

What is so amazing about that?  

No, no.  They are NOT cute.

That summer we were experiencing an infestation of animals under our 120 year old farmhouse:  skunks.  Man oh man.  A million skunks, and we couldn’t get rid of them.  We tried everything.  

How to get rid of skunks!

So while these adorable young men were courting me, we were trying to ignore the perpetual skunk odor that erupted from beneath our house.

That is why U is for…Underneath the House.